


bride of the sea

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [23]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are gunshots and mortars being fired repeatedly making the windows rattle; molotov cocktails being thrown at buildings and at people, burning the city up in blazing flames that he can feel the heat at the back of his neck and he wonders if the internet connection in this hotel can withstand this assault for this coverage to go on live as long as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bride of the sea

**Author's Note:**

> an anon over-estimated my writing ability and asked for Webster is a reporter suddenly held hostage in a country in crisis. Joe is watching the development on CNN.
> 
> also - Tripoli's nickname in Arabic is عروسة البحر which literally means, bride of the sea.

There are three things that David K. Webster, CNN Senior International Correspondent, regrets in his life.

1\. He regrets not changing his major to Marine Biology when he was in Harvard because at this moment, he could have been on a boat somewhere at the Pacific, researching about sharks and manta rays.

2\. He regrets not saying ‘no’ when Lewis Nixon told him to go to Libya to cover the news about Gaddafi fleeing the city after Tripoli is seized by the rebels. Nixon said it’s sort of like the big finale for him being in the field before he gets to host his own political show back in New York.

3\. He regrets having that big argument with Lieb before he left for Libya. Lieb has accused him of always putting his career first and he regrets not telling Lieb how much he loves Lieb more than anything in this world.

All these regrets are coming to him like bullets flying outside the hotel walls where he, Hoobler, and Christenson are currently trapped in. They are huddled under the table – away from the windows but close enough that Hoob can pan out the camera to show the viewers what’s going on outside on the streets of Libya.

There are gunshots and mortars being fired repeatedly making the windows rattle; molotov cocktails being thrown at buildings and at people, burning the city up in blazing flames that he can feel the heat at the back of his neck and he wonders if the internet connection in this hotel can withstand this assault for this coverage to go on live as long as possible.

“We are trapped inside the hotel with the other news correspondents. Tripoli is in turmoil with Gaddafi’s loyalists trying to take over the city with guns and mortars, aiming them at the rebels but it seems like –.” Web stops talking when there’s a bomb going off just outside the hotel garden. He moves closer next to Christenson who is typing fast on his laptop, telling the newsroom back in the States that they are in literal hell. Hoob shifts to sit closer to them under the table, the camera is still rolling, only now it is focused on Web.

He is sweaty; his blue shirt, the one that Lieb gave to him because it reminds him of Web’s blue eyes, is soaked and it sticks on his body like a second skin. His hair is in disarray, flopping over his forehead that he has to brush them away in annoyance.

Miles away from Libya, at 235AM, Lieb is watching the news, staring at his husband huddling underneath a table in the middle of what appears to be a ballroom, the sounds of gunshots and mortars and people screaming in terror can be heard as clear as the day and he’s screaming into the phone.

“NIX! YOU FUCKING BRING HIM BACK HOME NOW! FUCKING FIX THIS! OH GOD, WEB. OH GOD.”

On the TV, Web starts reporting again, the camera is still focused on him and Lieb can see how his eyes are tired, the lines on his forehead deepen every time there’s a bomb going off in a distance that is probably closer to him than he anticipates.

“Fuck, Web. Please, please, baby. Be safe, be safe,” in that chaotic moment happening far away from their peaceful home, in their bedroom that feels too large and too empty without Web there, Lieb starts to pray.

*

Everything happens too fast.

Everything happens too fucking fast that Web isn’t sure how it gets to this. Two days ago he was in New York, kissing Lieb hard against the doorway because they were tired to fight with words. Fucking each other raw and marking each other’s skins in anger.

But now, he’s watching the usually calm Christenson abandoning his laptop, lighting up four cigarettes and passing them around to be shared with the others.

Outside, the bombs have been going off every five minutes and it feels like the rebels or the loyalists or whoever fuck outside the walls are coming closer to them.

Hoob is still filming but his hands are shaking and Web just wants to crawl to his long time friend and makes him tell Web about the story of how he knew from the start that Web and Lieb belong together.

He starts talking instead, rubbing his face tiredly and licking his dry lips, “Everything is chaotic here and we are trapped in this crossfire that looks like it will not stop anytime soon. Everyone is huddling closer –.”

Web stops talking again, and Lieb moves closer to the TV, to touch the screen, wanting so badly to climb inside and take Web home safely, take Web back safely into their home because Web is about to break down. He recognizes the tell-tale signs; the heavy breathing, the face rubbing, the unshed tears.

“Web, please be safe. God, God, please,” Lieb whispers, gliding his fingers on Web’s cheek only to feel the cold surface underneath his fingers.

“Hoob, come here. Stay close to us,” Web says, the camera shaking badly in Hoob’s hands and the camera loses its focus for a bit, filming the ten or so people trapped in the ballroom; smoking, frantically typing something on their phones, perhaps last words of love to the one that matters; praying, crying silently.

Web takes the camera and places it on top of a small vase, balancing it precariously. The sounds of the gunshots and the mortars are coming closer and closer to them.

And Web feels like he’s running out of time.

“Lieb.”

Lieb hears his name being called by Web and he actually turns around at the direction of the bedroom door to see Web standing there, in his soft t-shirt and boxers, carrying a mug of herbal tea like always but it’s empty.

“Lieb, I don’t know if you’re watching this,” Web says, breathing out a soft sigh as if to compose himself.

Lieb turns back to the TV and his Web is talking to him, blue eyes wet with tears.

“Lieb, we are running out of time. I’m running out of time. They are coming closer to us. I’m sorry that we had that big stupid argument. I’m sorry for every hurtful things that I’ve ever said to you,” Web says as he brushes his hair and his wedding ring on his finger glinting blindly.

“No, no, don’t apologize, Web. Please, please. You’re gonna be fine,” Lieb whispers, his fingers clawing the screen, eager to get inside to be closer to Web, to hold him tight and to wipe his tears.

“I left everything for you. The house, the money, everything is yours. You know where I keep the documents,” Web wipes his face as tears keep falling down.

“Lieb, Ich liebe dich. Du fehlst mir. Ich denke immer an dich. Du machst mich glücklich. Ich will immer mit dir zusammen sein. Even in heaven, I will wait for you,” Web whispers the last words and his face is red from crying and Lieb’s heart breaks.

“No, no, no! Web! You can’t do this to me! You can’t leave me, asshole!” Lieb screams in anger, tears blurring his sights.

There is a whistling noise coming fast to them from outside of the window, Web turns to his left and he lets out a soft defeated breath before turning back to the camera.

“Lieb, I love –.”

Then everything goes dark.

“NO! NO! NO!” Lieb kicks the TV set down as his whole world crashing down on him.

 

( _Lieb, Ich liebe dich. Du fehlst mir. Ich denke immer an dich. Du machst mich glücklich. Ich will immer mit dir zusammen sein._

_Lieb, I love you. I miss you. I always think of you. You make me happy. I want to be with you forever. Even in heaven, I will wait for you.)_

**Author's Note:**

> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/142501127902/i-like-your-style-somethin-very-creative-and)


End file.
